


let's finish what we started

by xinzui



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, aka the rogue one we couldve and shouldve had, and the sneaky iolo reference cause i love my boy, check out my sneaky reference to cassian's rumored surname
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xinzui/pseuds/xinzui
Summary: When Bodhi turns sixteen, they ask him what he wants to do.

  Bodhi thinks about the cargo ships that come and go, never staying in the same place for more than a little while. “Cargo pilot.”
Bodhi Rook is the son of the Death Star's architect. This comes with its own set of problems.





	

Even before it happens, Bodhi knows it’s coming.

“A little too clever for your own good,” his mother says of him sometimes, ruffling Bodhi’s hair with the smile that Bodhi knows is reserved only for him and his father. “Though I suppose I can’t complain about you taking after your mother!”

At night, Bodhi lies awake and watches the silhouettes of his parents through the cloth that separates his makeshift bedroom from the rest of the house. Their shadows move fluidly, murky shapes with fuzzy edges, and he hears their voices – faint whispers that tell of a malicious force making its way across the galaxy. Horror stories of what destruction it leaves in its wake.

“I don’t want Bodhi to grow up like that, Seyla,” his father will say, weary.

“If Krennic comes for us, you have to take him. Leave me.”

“But –”

“Taseek.”

Bodhi asks about something he’s heard often one evening, sitting at the dining table and swinging his legs idly as his mother ladles soup into his bowl. His father is outside tending to the crops that are his pride and joy.

“Ma,” Bodhi says casually. “Who’s Krennic?”

Her face blanches as she looks up at him, alarmed. “Where did you hear that name? Did your father tell you?”

“No,” Bodhi says quickly, reeling back from the look in her eyes. “You and Father talk about them after you think I’ve gone to sleep. I’m sorry for eavesdropping.”

His mother’s shoulders are still tense but her eyes soften. “He’s – nothing. Nobody you need to worry about, my dear.”

“What about you?”

This makes her smile tightly, inexplicably, although it does not reach her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Is he dangerous?”

She sighs, running a frazzled hand through her hair. “This is all I can say: one day, Bodhi, very soon – there may be people who will try to take us. That includes you, my dear. You must promise me one thing.”

Bodhi nods solemnly.

“Run, when I tell you to.”

“Where, Ma?”

“Anywhere. As far as you can go. And don’t look back.”

 

The ships come to the planet in the dead of the night. Bodhi is woken suddenly by his father sweeping the curtain aside, a wild look in his eyes as the lantern in his hand illuminates the room with a harsh and sudden light. Far in the distance, Bodhi can hear the whirs of heavy machinery and the crunch of ships landing on dirt.

“Father?” Bodhi asks uncertainly, sitting up slowly. His father comes in to grab him by the arm and haul him out of bed.

“They’re here,” his father says quickly, and it takes Bodhi a moment to figure out what he’s talking about. “They’re here, they’ve come for us – Seyla, where –?”

“I have it here,” his mother says, frantically checking the contents of the backpack in her hands. “Remember what we talked about? About running?”

Bodhi nods, too frightened to speak.

“I need you to do that for me now,” she says, shoving the backpack into Bodhi’s arms. “Taseek, you go with him.”

“I’m not letting them take you,” Bodhi’s father replies fiercely, and Bodhi glimpses a flash of metal on his belt, underneath his cloak. His mother catches her husband’s hand and holds it close to her chest, plants a kiss on his knuckles.

“I have to do this,” she says quietly. “Let me do this. It’s the only way.”

Bodhi watches as his father sets his jaw, then steps back to take Bodhi by the hand.

“Bodhi.”

“Father,” he replies shakily, looking at his mother. She kneels down and ruffles his hair.

“Be brave, Bodhi. Whatever happens, just know that all I want is for you to be safe.”

Bodhi nods as his mother smiles at him one last time before standing and leaving their home. His father tightens his grip on Bodhi’s hand and ushers him out of the other door. Bodhi stumbles out into the open wilderness of the planet and he does not let go of his hand, but he does stop walking. Bodhi turns, confused.

“Father?”

“I can’t – I’m not coming with you,” he says, voice thick with emotion, as he falls to his knees and takes Bodhi's face in his hands. He kisses him on the forehead with a tenderness that he doesn’t often display. Bodhi tries to ignore how badly his hands are shaking. “I love you very much, sunflower.”

“But Ma told you – you said –”

“Run, Bodhi,” he says, standing and beginning to move back. “I’ll come find you later – just don’t ever look back!”

Then his father disappears behind a boulder and Bodhi truly is alone, an eight-year-old child with nothing but a backpack and the clothes that he’s wearing. He turns to go but he can’t stop thinking about that ominous whirring and of the look on his father’s face – and he knows that he isn’t going to come find him.

Before he can think about it, he’s running back – back to the fields that his father has spent so many years cultivating, back to where he knows they’re making their final stand. He falls to the ground and drags himself forward, hiding in the grass and moving forward slowly until he can see the murky shapes of his parents, standing as though frozen.

There’s another person there, looking menacing in a cape as he stands in front of a whole group of people in shiny white armor, all heavily armed.

His father has a blaster pointed directly at the man in the cape.

“You won’t take her,” his father says fiercely. “You’ll never win. I swear it.”

“Oh, Taseek,” the man in the cape says with a sigh. “You really are too much.” He tosses his head and the people in white armor lift their weapons. “Go on, then.”

Then there’s blaster fire, and Taseek Rook stumbles back, hovers uncertainly, falls to the ground.

Seyla screams. Bodhi does, too.

Everything fades away as his vision goes fuzzy. He’s only faintly aware of hasty steps that grow louder and arms lifting him to his feet roughly. He’s dragged towards where his father and the man in the cape stand.

“Taseek,” his mother chokes out, but when she tries to move towards his body, several blasters are pointed at her.

“A very poor effort in hiding your child, Seyla,” Bodhi hears someone say, echoing and faint. “I have to say, I’m disappointed. You didn’t invest in lessons on how to stay quiet? Fortunately for you, I have something that might be able to help with that.”

Cold metal presses against Bodhi’s temple, digging into his skull. Bodhi looks up to see his mother’s wide-eyed, terrified stare.

“I’ll give you one last opportunity to rethink,” the man in the cape says, cold and ruthless.

“I’ll do it,” his mother says with contempt and aching sorrow dripping from her every word. “Just don’t hurt him.”

“Oh, I won’t,” the man says nonchalantly. “Bring them both to the ship.”

“ _Both?_ But you said –”

“I know what I said,” the man cuts in. “As long as he serves the Empire well, just as his mother does, he’ll be fine.”

“Krennic,” Bodhi’s mother says through clenched teeth, seething with rage as her wrists are bound. “I’m warning you –”

“Not even on a first-name basis anymore, I see,” Krennic interrupts, sneering in his triumph. “Don’t worry, Seyla. Your son will be well taken care of. He’ll grow up under the glorious Empire – isn’t that wonderful?”

Bodhi doesn’t remember much else of that night but he does remember Krennic’s laughter, jeering and cruel.

 

“So, what do _your_ parents do?” the kid sitting across the table asks. They have hair darker than the night sky and curious eyes, unnaturally large and luminous. “My dad’s a TIE fighter pilot in the Imperial fleet.”

“My mum,” Bodhi says quietly, staring down at his plate, not at all hungry. “She’s … an engineer.”

 

Bodhi isn’t used to such confinement, not after spending the first nine years of his life in such blissful freedom. The first thing he learns is that rules are to be followed to the letter. The second thing he learns is that failure to comply ends in punishment.

The kid with the luminous eyes’ name is Willix and by sheer coincidence turns out to be Bodhi’s bunkmate. The trooper in charge of their floor calls for lights out at precisely twenty-one-hundred hours every night and every night, neither Bodhi nor Willix is able to sleep.

“I suppose you’re wondering what species I am,” Willix says in a hushed voice the first night, quite suddenly, and Bodhi jumps at hearing their voice through the still darkness.

“I wasn’t, really, but now I am,” Bodhi whispers back.

Willix snorts. “Keshian.”

“How’s that different from a human?”

“Nothing, really. We just see more light than you do.”

“Huh,” Bodhi says, and all is silent again.

That’s how most of their late-night conversations go, with both of them learning about each other in bits and pieces. Bodhi learns that Willix has no siblings but plenty of cousins, all of whom still live on their home planet. The bittersweet fondness with which Willix speaks of their family members makes Bodhi’s heart ache.

The schedule for the day mostly consists of school, homework, and chores. Forming connections isn’t outright disallowed but implicitly discouraged in the sharp way the troopers conveniently find some way to interrupt any amicable conversation that lasts too long. Bodhi learns to keep his head down.

Years pass in this way. Bodhi becomes accustomed to it, to the routine that never seems to change. As he learns more and more about the history of the Empire and its relationship with the Republic, Bodhi’s hatred for the Empire grows deeper, despite the obviously pro-Empire stance his instructors take. Every now and again the news playing in the mess hall will turn to the Death Star and Bodhi’s back will straighten slightly as he pretends not to be listening more attentively. Every time they mention his mother’s name Bodhi’s shoulders relax. She’s still alive. He hopes she knows he’s alive, too.

Orson Krennic’s face appears sometimes, looming over the mess hall, and Bodhi shudders under his cold gaze. He doesn’t dare look at the others but he’s sure some of them have memories of that unfeeling smile, too.

 

When Bodhi turns sixteen, they ask him what he wants to do.

Bodhi thinks about the cargo ships that come and go, never staying in the same place for more than a little while. “Cargo pilot.”

Willix signs on to become an engineer for the Death Star. Bodhi swallows when his bunkmate tells him while they pack their very minimal personal belongings. He watches Willix, the closest thing he’s had to a real friend through all the years, and says: “I lied about my mother.”

Willix turns, eyes glowing more brightly than usual. “What?”

“All those years ago, when we first met in the mess hall? You asked me what my parents did. I said my mum was an engineer.”

“Yeah,” Willix says, and laughs quietly, a sound that Bodhi doesn’t get to hear very often. “Long time ago, huh? I remember now.”

“She’s not an engineer,” Bodhi says. “She’s an architect. She’s the architect.”

Willix pauses and Bodhi can see them starting to put the pieces together. “Bodhi Rook.”

“Yeah.”

“Rook.”

“Yeah.”

“As in Sey –”

“Yeah,” Bodhi cuts in, because he doesn’t think he can take hearing his mother’s name. Willix stares at him, then nods solemnly. They finish the rest of their packing in silence.

The trooper in charge of their floor calls them out by groups. Willix, Bodhi, and the others on their floor stand shoulder to shoulder.

“Engineering,” the trooper calls. “Arana.”

“Present,” Willix calls back, stepping forward. Before they’re led away they turn to Bodhi, lips parting slightly as though they want to say something.

But no words come. They smile faintly, then turn and leave. Bodhi watches them go, feeling hollow, his one source of camaraderie gone all of a sudden.

Finally, they make it to piloting, and they call his name. Bodhi steps forward and feels fifteen pairs of eyes all trained on him. Do they know that it’s his mother who designed the weapon that threatens to consume their home planets? To consume the galaxy?

Bodhi swallows as the trooper motions and he heads down the hallway, glad to finally leave the place behind but terrified of what comes next.

 

Flying, Bodhi finds, comes naturally to him.

The first time he steps into the simulator he feels a thrill go through him, a sensation that ripples across his body. Afterwards, his instructor tells him that he’s done very well for a first time.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says. A tiny smile pricks at the corners of her lips.

The training program at the flight academy lasts for one year in total. What surprises Bodhi the most is how much free time he has. He gapes down at the schedule when they hand it to him, marvels at how many empty time slots there are.

He’s not the only one. All the other young recruits, most of whom are fresh from institutions just like his, don’t seem to know what to do with their spare time. Bodhi spends many an hour sitting idly in his tiny bunk, staring at the walls and waiting until the next training session. After a few weeks of this he decides that it might be time to find something to do.

He meets the other people on his floor – who, similarly, don’t have a clue what to do with themselves – and, over a few months, learns more about them than he ever learned about Willix in the seven years they shared a room. Sometimes they ask him about how he came to be trained under the Empire and Bodhi steers the conversation away carefully, not wanting to talk about his mother.

Bodhi’s next-door neighbor is a Togrutan boy named Ya’al, who talks a lot and laughs even more. His cheeriness takes Bodhi by surprise the first time they meet but he grows to enjoy it. He spends many of his free hours in Ya’al’s bunk, listening to stories of his home planet, which he was fortunate enough to grow up on before being handed over to the Empire at age sixteen. Bodhi listens with rapt attention, fascinated by these stories of a planet he’s never been to, of open worlds that he has very little memory of.

“What d’you think of the Empire?” Ya’al asks him one day, while he’s showing Bodhi holoimages of the trees native to his home planet.

“What do you mean, ‘what do I think of it’?”

“Like, I know we’re supposed to love it,” Ya’al says, his voice growing lower as he shifts closer. Bodhi swallows quietly, suddenly hyper-aware of their proximity. “But _really_ – I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my parents. So what do you think?”

Bodhi stares at Ya’al and thinks about his father. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to say.”

His neighbor nods sagely, smiles knowingly. “I see.”

Ya’al kisses Bodhi a month before their training program is over, right outside the door to Bodhi’s bunk. It’s very quiet and very quick, and Ya’al disappears back into his room soon after, but Bodhi lies awake that night thinking about it.

They don’t talk about it. Romantic relationships aren’t allowed in the academy.

Graduation comes very quickly and Bodhi is itching to leave when the officers assign everyone to different bases across the galaxy.

Still, he thinks as he glances at Ya’al, standing across the room – it’s almost sad to have to go.

 

Bodhi is twenty-five when he gets the signal. “You’ve been re-routed,” the command center tells him.

“Copy that,” he replies. “Where to?”

“Eadu,” they say. “Transferring the map now.”

 

Even after flying for the Empire for so many years, Bodhi still isn’t used to the accommodations they give pilots. The rooms are always the same: sterile, shiny, and very, very small. Bodhi lies on the hard mattress, stares up at the ceiling, and tries to fall asleep. By some miracle, he does.

He is woken suddenly in the dead of night by the click of his door’s lock and a sudden bright light. Bodhi sits up quickly, heartrate rapidly increasing. When his eyes have adjusted to the light the shadowy figure holding the light becomes clearer. Bodhi’s heart leaps into his throat when he sees who it is.

Seyla Rook stands, dressed in dark robes, clutching something tightly in her right hand. Her face is older, her hair grayer, and there are more lines around her eyes, but she is still, unmistakably, his mother.

“Ma,” Bodhi whispers, choking on the lump in his throat, as he swings his legs out of bed and stands.

“Bodhi,” his mother replies, and rushes forward to wrap her arms around him. Bodhi hugs her tightly, squeezing his eyes shut to stem the tears that threaten to leak out.

“Ma,” he repeats, breathless, pressing his face into her shoulder. “I – I’ve missed you so much.”

“Bodhi, oh, my boy,” she chokes out, clutching him unbelievably tightly. “I’ve missed you, too. More than you can imagine.”

She pulls back to appraise him, a smile coming to her weary face and tears in her eyes as she brushes his hair out of his face. “Look at you. So handsome.”

“Oh, come on, now,” Bodhi manages, making her laugh. “What are you doing here?”

Her face sobers up. “I need you to do something for me. You are the only person I can trust.”

Bodhi clenches his jaw, remembering the last time she asked him to do something. “Anything, Ma.”

“Take this,” his mother whispers, pressing something into his palm – a data disk. “Go to the planet Jedha. Find a rebel named Saw Gerrera and show this to him. It will begin to make things right.”

“A _rebel?”_ Bodhi asks incredulously, lowering his voice and shifting closer, suddenly fearful of surveillance. “You’re not serious – I work for the Empire. You know how they feel about – you know.”

“You can’t tell me you want to keep doing this,” his mother says. “This isn’t the life I wanted for you and it’s not the life you deserve.”

Bodhi swallows and thinks about what he’s seen the Empire do, what the Empire is capable of.

The Empire doesn’t take kindly to traitors.

“Please, Bodhi,” his mother whispers, and Bodhi thinks about his father, thinks about the expression on Orson Krennic’s face when Taseek Rook tumbled to the ground, thinks about the horrified screams that pierced the air that night, one after the other.

The Empire did that.

“Okay,” Bodhi says. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

His mother’s face breaks into a smile – tentatively hopeful, for what must be the first time in a very long time.

She sends him and his message away in a tiny ship that isn’t equipped with the Empire’s tracking devices. She kisses him on the forehead before he goes and he can’t help but shed tears as she closes the door to the ship and smiles bravely at him through the window.

Bodhi has a terrible feeling that his first time seeing his mother in so long might also be his last.

He punches in the coordinates for Jedha and keeps his face pressed to the window as the ship rises slowly, preparing for departure. His mother waves at him and he watches her until he can’t anymore, until the ship hurtles into the darkness of space.

 

Strange hands pull him from the ship and he stumbles out into a crowd of menacing creatures wearing masks, all of whom swarm around him.

“Who are you?” one of them asks in an ancient tongue that Bodhi remembers from the flight academy’s language courses.

“I’m – I’m a pilot,” Bodhi says, terrified. “I have a message for Saw Gerrera.”

 

“Give me one good reason why we should trust your information,” Captain Andor says curtly, arms crossed. Bodhi casts a helpless glance at Baze, who pretends not to have heard.

“I – because I defected, Captain,” Bodhi says desperately. “You know what the Empire does to traitors – I left. I left because I wanted to. I wouldn’t have risked my life to come here if I didn’t believe in what I was doing.”

Captain Andor stares at Bodhi, his stance relaxing slightly and his gaze softening.

“Okay,” he says, finally, and uncrosses his arms. “Pretty good reason.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The light on the horizon is blinding as they stumble to a halt and Cassian falls to his knees in the sand, breathing heavily. Bodhi sinks down with him, tightens his grip around Cassian’s waist.

“Bodhi,” Cassian tells him as the waves splash around them, his arm around Bodhi’s shoulders. “Your mother would have been proud of you.”

Bodhi looks down at Cassian and smiles faintly, feels how warm Cassian is against him. They can see the waves beginning to rise, slowly but surely, as the explosion ripples across the base.

Cassian shifts against him, his breath soft and warm on Bodhi’s collarbone, and leans up to wrap his other arm around Bodhi. Bodhi turns and hugs Cassian, holds him close – they comfort each other, here, in their final moments.

He could have had a good life working for the Empire. A good life of complicity and willful ignorance.

He doesn’t regret anything.

How can he?

“We did it,” Bodhi whispers into Cassian’s shoulder, closing his eyes, and feels no fear.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to @osteolojist on Tumblr because I based 90% of this fic on a post they made!


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